-
…you’ll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You’ll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.
And then the nightmares will begin.
House Of Leaves -
i wish i could remember to look at your blog more often. you hardly ever post things but when you do they sound exactly like things i'd say. i bet we're part of the same soul. just different bodies. how's that thing called life been treating you, miss?
Asked by prejentious
Writers block has gotten the best of me. The words don’t flow like they used to. So sad.
Same soul…yes. I feel like we should keep in touch somehow. Via e-mail, facebook, something. Thoughts?
-
“I really wanna change the way I am towards you because I miss you,” he says.
She pauses.
…and her brain whispers to her heart, “Be still.”
-
Tonight I love you. I love you so much. One simple “happy birthday” and I’m weak in the knees. You’re back in my life…
…and I hate it.
…and yet I embrace it.
And I still fucking love you.
WAIT…I take it back. I hate you.
-
I hate you.
I really, truly hate you tonight.
I hate how it’s been 4 months since you’ve uttered a single word to me.
I hate how unimportant I am to you.
And I hate that I miss you.
But most of all, I hate that I still love you.
-
Bring your love, baby I can bring my shame
Bring the drugs, baby I can bring my pain
I got my heart right here
I got my scars right here
I’ll give you all I got
Just tell me you love me…
I’ll give you what you need
…even though you don’t love me
-
3 months.
3 months of silence.
No word from him.
Nothing.
“Not even sure if you’re alive still. If you are, I miss you. If you aren’t, I miss you.”
Pushing send, I fell back on my bed.
A minute later I sat right back up, grabbing my phone.
“Ps. Fuck you.”
Send.
-
“I see you read a lot of books. So do I,” he says as he casually glances over my collection.
Really? Who’s your favorite author?
“God.”
I sigh, taking a sip out of my beer.
Do you have a favorite book?
“The bible. I believe everything it says. The word of God -“
I’m sorry to stop you, but I’m gonna need another beer for this conversation.
*2 beers, a lecture on the bible & 20 minutes later*
“Back to your books…I see you read a lot of romance. You’re the kinky type, huh?”
I cough as my beer goes down the wrong way.
Umm…
“You are. You have a vibrator don’t you? Where is it? Can I see it?”
I looked toward my night stand, a natural reflex apparently.
No you may not see it.
I couldn’t get up fast enough from my bed as he opened the drawer and took it out.
“I’m just curious. So if I do this…” he paused to turn it on and press it against me, “does it feel good?”
You were just talking about God. This is inappropriate.
“I never said I was a good Christian.”
I looked up at him.
His name was Eric. He was 30. He had abs to die for and was a follower of God.
That’s all I needed to know about him.
-
Juarez, Mexico - 2004
She was 18. He was 17.
It was a bad night. She can’t even remember why she was upset, she just remembers watching her friend flirt while she drowned her sorrows in a tequila sunrise. This guy kept circling the club, asking her to dance every time he passed. She repeatedly said “No.”
4th time he asked: “I don’t like to dance while I’m drinking” was what rolled off her tongue.
5th time he asked: “You don’t have a drink now.” Damn it! She was caught. She racked her brain for another lie to tell him. She chose to roll her eyes and force herself out of the chair.
The music was so loud, yet he wouldn’t stop asking her questions. “Can you not talk while we’re dancing?” she asked, annoyed. He laughed but shut his mouth. She needed to get off the dance floor. Best excuse that always works: “I need to go to the bathroom.” BAM! She was free.
Tequila Sunrise number 100 was needed. Stat. She made her way back up to the bar. She casually glanced at the person next to her. She sees him looking back at her. Cue eye roll again. He talked, and she did that thing where she nodded her head to what he was saying just to act like she was listening. Finally she asked if he wanted something from the bar, anything to shut him up.
A cherry bomb was their first shot together.
Maybe she was desperate for company, or maybe it was the many drinks she had that finally caught up to her, but she made her way up the stairs and sat at a table with him.
That was their first conversation.
She remembers smoking a cigarette, not paying attention as her fingers pulled it away from her mouth, burning a small hole in his white button up shirt. She apologized profusely. He kept smiling, saying it was fine. He slid her a napkin. She took out her black eyeliner and wrote her number on it. They headed to the bar one last time.
He still has the napkin. I still have his burnt shirt.
& we fell in love.
-
“I’m engaged. I’m giving her a ring next month.”
Two weeks ago he told me he was just settling for her.
Are you really? I thought she was crazy.
Two weeks ago he told me he wasn’t good looking, so she was the best he could get.
“She’s changed,” he says as he takes a sip of water out of my cup. “She lets me go out now.”
I laugh as I my eyes roll. Damn, he looked good in his suit today.
Well, I wish you the best.
“You’re gonna come to the wedding, right?”
Maybe.
I chugged the water that was helping cure my dry mouth that all of a sudden appeared.
Two weeks ago I silently wished I could tell him that if he was going to settle, to settle for me.
